


Night of the huntress

by MadDogMajima



Category: Far Cry 4
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, Impled/Referenced Infanticide, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-15 20:55:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3461696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadDogMajima/pseuds/MadDogMajima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mohan Ghale had to die in agony. Mohan Ghale had to die begging for mercy that would never come.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night of the huntress

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea in my mind for some time, before I finally decided to stop being lazy and actually write it down. I may or may not hate Mohan a lil' bit.
> 
> English is not my native language, any feedback on my grammar (or lack of thereof) and general flow would be very, very appreciated!
> 
> Enjoy <3

_«Skinned her alive, ripped her apart_  
_Scattered her ashes, buried her heart_  
_Rise up above it, high up above it and see»  
_ Night of the Hunter - 30 Seconds to Mars

“Mommy, where are we going?”  
“Quiet!”  
Regretful for her harsh tone of voice, Ishwari stopped and kneeled on the ground, so that her eyes looked straight into her son’s “I’m sorry, Ajay. I-I just need you to be a good boy, okay? Will you do this for me?”  
He nodded and wiped his cheeks with the back of his right hand, while with the left he was squeezing his tiny backpack so hard that his knuckles were white in the dim moonlight.  
Ishwari grabbed his wrist as gently as she could and made way through the dry shrubbery, careful not to slip or let her son fall to his death. Apart from the night sky, a mere day or two away from a new moon, the only source of light in the area were the candles that burned softly inside the house. The woman took a deep breath.  
“Look, mommy!” Ajay whispered. Ishwari took her gun out of the holster.  
“PIggies!” the boy pointed at the animals. She let out a sigh of relief, though her heart was still beating fast and her ears ringing loud “Yes, Ajay. Piggies.”  
Ishwari secured the grappling hook to the rock “Now, come here and hold my shirt. Don’t let go.”

With the child secured against her body and the rope in her fist, she slid down the rock face, wary for any sign of human presence ouside the house. She hit the ground with her feet. All was clear.  
Ajay waited patiently for his mother’s grip to loosen, before walking to the pinfold. Ishwari’s eyes scanned the area, her hand on the gun holster, but once again, nothing seemed to be there apart from the animals. She memorized the position of the buzzer, a few dozen feet beyond the house, to the left. Their escape route.  
“Mommy, do you think the piggies are hungry?”  
“What? Mh… Yes. Yes, I think they’re hungry, dear.” Ishwari laid her own backpack on the ground, unzipped the front pocket and gave him the paper bag that was inside, careful not to make too much noise “You can feed them now.”  
Ajay looked like he was staring at the bag, but it was clear his mind was somewhere else.  
“Mommy…?”  
“Yes, dear?”  
“Where is daddy?”  
Her heart sank. But there was not much time left.  
“Listen to me, Ajay. I need you to be a good boy and listen to what I say. Will you?”  
He nodded and squeezed the paper bag between his fingers.  
Ishwari unzipped one of the side pockets of the backpack, then handed the orange walkie-talkie to her son “Here, Take this. Whatever  you do, don’t let it go.”  
Ajay let the bag fall on the floor and grabbed the walkie-talkie with all his strenght.  
“If I am not back by dawn, I want you to push this big button on the front and call for daddy. Keep pushing and calling, okay? Do you understand?”  
He nodded.  
“Tell him you’re at mommy’s old house, and he must come pick you up as soon as possible. And he will come. Is that clear?”  
He nodded again.  
“Now repeat. How long do you have to wait, Ajay?”  
“Until dawn.”  
“Good. What do you have to do at dawn?”  
“Push the big button on the front and call for daddy.”  
“What do you have to tell him?”  
“That I’m at mommy’s old house and he must come pick us up as soon as possible.”  
“No, no, not us. You.”  
“But…”  
“What do you have to tell him?”  
The child swallowed a lump of saliva “That I’m at mommy’s old house and he must come pick me up as soon as possible.”  
She kissed his forehead, lingering a second or two more than she planned, enjoying the warmth of his skin against her cold lips. Then, unwillingly, she let go.  
“Mommy, where are you going?”  
“It’s okay, Ajay. You are safe.”  
“Are you going to the far place to visit Lakshmana?”  
Ishwari kept her eyes wide open to dry the tears before they had a chance to come out.  
“I have to go, Ajay.” she kissed him again, on the cheek “Be a good boy. I love you.”

The Gods had been merciful to her, that night: the door was unlocked.

Ishwari gave one last thought to Ajay, then let Lakshmana’s hanging corpse fill her skin, her mind, her heart. She closed her eyes and once again breathed the stagnant air that enclosed the cursed willow. Her fingers around the gun grip, she stroked the trigger with her index fingertip.  
He was in there. Her daughter’s murderer.  
Her whole body was now wrapped in a thick, frozen curtain. Kyrat’s wind was no longer warm and gentle.  
She was calm. Her mind was clear.

Ishwari opened the door without a sound. Mohan was typing something on the writing machine, not concerned in the least by what was happening behind his back.  
“I asked you not to stop patrolling until dawn, has something hap-”  
The first bullet was for the radio at his left. It took him a while before he realized what just happened. She could have emptied the whole magazine on his back by the time he turned around, but she was not there for a quick and clean kill.  
She had thought so, actually, until she crossed the threshold and saw him, saw the hands with which he tightened the noose around her daughter’s neck, in spite of her cries for help.  
Mohan Ghale had to die in agony. Mohan Ghale had to die begging for mercy that would never come.

He stood up and turned around.  
“You.” was the only word he said.  
“Yes. Me.”  
She aimed at his leg and shot. A scream pierced the air, as Mohan fell down on his wounded knee. Ishwari kept her eyes fixed on his, giving the gory mess of bone and flesh nothing more than a glimpse.  
He lifted his hand and reached for the table, frantically touching the wooden surface here and there, looking for the gun he could not see, but she was faster than that. Pagan taught her better.  
The third bullet pierced Mohan’s right wrist. His pained scream reached her ears.  
Maybe this time he would pay her attention.  
“Why are you doing this, Ishwari?” Mohan was struggling to sound only slightly upset, like a parent mildly annoyed at their little kid’s new misdeed. His face, however, told her another story: little drops of sweat glimmered in the candlelight, his every muscle was tense, his teeth clenched.  
“You killed my daughter.” her voice was cold, detatched. In that moment, it was someone else’s child, who also happened to be her own. Some other woman who died under the willow with a tiny corpse tight in her arms and never, never once believed she would end up torturing her former husband in cold blood.  
“Your daughter was a threat to all Kyrat! Pagan Min’s heir… and it was you of all people to give it to him!”  
“Is that so?” she replied, untouched by his words, too busy watching every inch of his face. Mohan’s façade was falling apart, thanks to the pain.  
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this! If only you hadn’t spread your legs like a common whore, in this right moment we could-”  
He let out another loud cry, just as the fourth bullet hit his thigh. With his left hand, he tried to stop the blood flow, while the other arm laid limp against the wooden leg of the table.  
“We could what? Be the perfect Kyrati family, a brave warrior, his female lapdog and their child soldier?”

Mohan opened his eyes wide, as if he suddenly remembered something of the utmost importance.  
“Ajay? Where’s Ajay? Where’s my son, Ishwari? Answer me!”  
“Everything’s been taken care of. You really should not shout so loud.” she shot his shoulder, but he didn’t even flinch. Instead, he tried to stand up, even though his wounded legs wouldn’t let him.  
“What did you do to my son? Answer me! You whore!”  
“Ajay’s not coming back. I sent him far from here. A place your golden claws cannot hope to reach, not in a thousand years. Don’t bother looking for him.”  
Like a wild animal, Mohan threw his body at her in a furious rage. She dodged his pathetic attempt to seize her by the shirt.  
Ishwari shifted back, towards the wooden table and the gun still on it, under the candle holder. When he understood what she had done and why, Mohan once again attempted to throw himself at her, but this time, she was ready.

 _Six. Seven._  
One bullet for the stomach. The other for the remaining kneecap. The man fell on the floor, coughing blood, as a large pool of red fluid spreaded under his body. For a moment, he didn’t move.  
Two bullets left. In two bullets, he would be dead. Ishwari swallowed iron tasting saliva and realized she had been biting her lip so hard it had started to bleed.  
"Everything I did…” still on the floor, he coughed. Blood spattered on her boots. “Everything I did, I did it for us. For you!” his body was shaken by another cough fit “And this is how you pay me back? Spreading your legs for the enemy? Murdering my son?”  
_Let him believe Ajay’s dead._  
Even if the only thought was enough to make her want to run outside and make sure he was alright, still feeding the pigs and waiting for her.  
“A life for a life, Mohan.”  
“Tell me, was it him? All you’ve done? You’re doing all of this to show him how faithful you are?” he spat out words laced with blood, and looked at her with the mix of rage and disgust that was usually reserved to the Royal Army soldier waiting to be executed. Only, this time, he was on the other side of the gun.  
“Believe whatever you want. It’s not like it’s going to matter soon.”  
She hated that glare. With the eight bullet she made it disappear, replaced by the usual, suffering expression.  The fingers on his left hand were gone.  
“Ishwari. Please!”  
He was desperately trying to sit, but the wrist on one side and the missing fingers on the other reduced his attempts to pitiful squirms.  
“Please what?” she pressed the barrel of the gun on the back of his head.  
“You don’t know what you’re doing! That man must have done something to you! I… I can fix that.” Mohan spat blood and breathed loudly, as if talking was too hard for him “We can… be together. Again. Ajay… we’ll build a temple for him and pray he blesses us with another chi-” coughing again.  
Ishwari felt a wave of rage rise inside her, from the chest to the head. He was just as miserable as all the men he killed during the war. Even those whom torture could not bend would collapse and beg for their life as soon as they faced certain death.  
“I’m not following your orders. I will do as I please.”  
She didn’t leave him time to reply. With the ninth bullet safely lodged in his head, the gun was empty. Ishwari tossed it on the floor. Under her feet, the corpse of Mohan Ghale stank of blood.  
Suddenly, the room was hot. Heat flooded her body, from toes to brain, her hands began to tremble and she wasn’t able to stop them. Tears dripped down her cheek, no matter how hard she tried to keep them inside her eyes. Before she knew what was happening, she was sobbing.

She ran outside without bothering to close or lock the door. Dawn hadn’t broken yet. How much time did she spend inside? She did'nt know.  
“Ajay? Ajay are you still there?”  
“Mommy!” she saw him sprint in her direction and bent down to hug him. She held him in her arms, her face buried in his shoulder.  
“Mommy, are you okay? Are you hurt? I heard scary noi-”  
“Yes. Yes dear, I’m okay. I'm okay” but she didn’t let him go.  
_Just one more minute, please._  
She thought of the buzzer, of the airport, of the plane that was supposed to take them to a better place. Only the previous evening she was overwhelmed by how dangerous and unlikely to succeed her plan was. She was scared.  
But now, several hours later, Mohan Ghale was dead. Lakshmana’s death was avenged.

They were free.

 

 


End file.
